Two poems by George Freek


(After Tu Fu)

Clouds stretch from the sky

to the lake, as if they would

swallow it. Gulls circle,

then drift away.

A chill in the air says

another summer has gone.

I look in a mirror.

I look old. It seems wrong.

I watch a girl walk

through the falling leaves.

She gazes at a darkening sky.

Is she thinking of the clouds,

or the heavens beyond?

Whichever it is,

her attention is on the sky,

and in a few seconds

she’s passed me by.




(After Mei Yao Chen)

This night is bitter.

I sit alone in my room.

I rub my heavy eyelids.

I turn the pages of a book,

and try to read,

but quit after a brief look.

As the hours slowly pass,

moonlight drifts in,

collecting as dust would

on an hourglass.

When I sleep,

I dream of my youth,

what I hoped to achieve,

but never began.

At least my wife is dead.

Her dreams are done.

She had faith in me.

She didn’t live to see

what I’ve become.



George Freek’s poem “Written At Blue Lake” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His poem “Enigmatic Variations” was also recently nominated for Best of the Net. His collection “Melancholia” is published by Red Wolf Editions.


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